


Gemini

by Madmaiden



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Crack Treated Seriously, Epic Bromance, F/M, M/M, Magic, Major Original Character(s), Meta, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural oppression, Time Travel Fix-It, Zodiac Gods
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madmaiden/pseuds/Madmaiden
Summary: Everyone is dead and Stiles is desperate to go back and seek vengeance. He calls to the gods and they answer, allowing him to go back. But what's the deal with these weird consequences and conditions?“Dylan O’Brien, did you kidnap me to the woods?” She sounded confused and dumbfounded as she spoke, almost as if she knew what she was saying was ridiculous.“I, um, I have no idea who Dylan O’Brien is.” Stiles ran his hands nervously through his messy hair, suddenly wondering if he looked like a hobo. When was the last time he’d worried about something as simple as taking a shower? “My name is Stiles, and it’s, it’s technically my fault that you’re here. I think. I’m so sorry.”
Relationships: Deucalion (Teen Wolf)/Original Female Character(s), Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 25
Kudos: 72





	1. Twin

**Author's Note:**

> I had way more fun with this than I'm willing to admit and am very open to continuing this if there's an interest.

As far as bad ideas went, this had to be one of his worst. 

A part of him knew, intellectually, that he’d gone insane. That the mild haze in his mind was a fog of madness that was growing thicker with every moment that the empty void in his chest where pack bonds should have been laid barren. There was only so much torment a person could handle before the thin cord of sanity in their mind finally snapped under the pressure. He’d left that station months ago, all he had left was vengeance.

If someone had told him five years ago that the member of his pack that he’d relate most to was Peter Hale, Stiles would have laughed viciously at the ridiculousness. Yet here he sat, cross legged on the stump of the Nemeton, contemplating ripping the time-space continuum apart for the soul purpose of committing bloody murder. 

He wished that his reasonings were more noble, that he could look at the gods he was about to carelessly summon and tell them that he wanted to save lives, but that simply wasn’t the truth. He recognized that if this suicide mission were to go according to plan that he’d accomplish much more than vengeance. That he’d save thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of lives. 

Yet still, a slow and violent death for Gerard Argent was his top and only priority. The horror that man brought with his endless quest for human supremacy had to be prevented, this nightmare dystopia that had taken over his life couldn’t be allowed to come to pass. He had to do something and this was all he had left. 

_The pelt of a kelpie, the scales of a deep ocean fish, the horn of a khnum, hoof of a bull, a fertile unsplit egg, a shard of the blue king, the hindclaw of a pride alpha, the blood of a virgin, the heart of a druid, the fang of a vampire, and a hunters last kill._

All of the items had been treated and laid in the ritual circle around him. Stiles reached out with his spark to connect them to the spell and then to the earth. The land cried out for his magic, nearly pulling him from his fugue before he’d finished chanting, leaving him panting and reeling in confusion. Then he remembered that the land was suffering as much as it’s inhabitants. That the magic of the world had been captured, tagged, and in most cases -- eliminated with extreme prejudice. 

He could still hear the sounds of the tanks as they rolled into Beacon Hills for the first time. Can still smell the death in the air from the many concentration camps dotting the west coast. One of his last thoughts before all vision had dimmed to empty space was Cora’s empty eyes staring into nothingness as they pulled another of her organs from her body, too used to the pain to respond or notice that this time she wouldn't be healing.

He thinks she smiled when she finally realized that it was over, but he doesn’t like to think about it.

* * *

The lion and the scorpion were beaming, their amusement likely for different reasons but evident on their faces all the same while the virgin and the crab seemed uncomfortable with their excitement and kept their expressions more subdued. Stiles was seated but separate from his own body, likely dead, already feeling more clear headed than he had moments earlier. 

The fish winced in sympathy as if it could read the direction of his thoughts but said nothing, keeping a complicated expression that he couldn’t understand the traces of guilt within. The bull and the ram bristled when his attention shifted in their direction but otherwise did nothing while the archer stood separate from the rest, studying them all politely curious. The water seemed completely unaware of his presence in the chamber, drifting in rivers through the air almost as if dancing to music no one could hear. 

The goat was distracted, mumbling to itself about timelines and planning while seemingly endless folders of notes manifested out of the air only to require further hand sorting. The scales and the twins seemed locked in a debate that he could neither hear nor understand. 

It was all a bit overwhelming, but Stiles stayed the course and sat quietly, all the while knowing that his request had been heard. He wondered if he’d finally be allowed the release of death after he was denied. Surely they wouldn’t send him back to that place? Not that he’d last long if they did.

It was seconds and minutes and years and decades while the twins argued first with each other and then with the scales. Time seemed to move both faster and slower, somehow both meaningless and the most important concept in the universe, measured by pull and pattern more so than numbers and increments. He could feel something shift in the air and he could breathe again.

Mercury swung and the twins glowed. The scales sighed. 

The lion and the scorpion hugged. 

The rest were resigned. 

The taller twin turned to face him properly, blinding him with their ethereal beauty. Mischief dances across their features while the other twin barely drags their eyes from the ground. Stiles was unsure if they were resigned or reluctantly happy for the other. The Mischievous twin leaned closer to him and spoke, but the words were distorted and difficult to understand. 

It must have shown in his expression because they stopped and squinted before turning back to the scales. Whatever was said caused the scorpion and the archer to snort while the lion and the crab winced in sympathy. The goat, irritated, shuffled some more papers before throwing a stack at the twin. The twin turned back to him and spoke once more. 

“Do you accept the cost?” Their voice was two in one, reminding Stiles of the times when Ethan and Aiden would speak in unison to freak people out. A nostalgic grin stretched across his face for just a second before his mind caught up to the present. 

“Do I get to know what it is?” Stiles rasped, going for curiosity over attitude and wondering if his broken voice helped or hindered that. 

All eyes shifted to the scales before they answered, reminding him of Deaton with the droll and monotone information, “No. It would create imbalance.” 

“This whole situation is an imbalance.” The virgin huffed. “We are lucky to have a spark thats still al--”

“Hush.” The ram quipped as it leaned against the bull in comfort. “Don’t say too much now.” 

“Hi Stiles, I’m Leo!” The lion waved excitedly, apparently completely naive of the stifling pressure in the room. “It’s super cool that you can hear us now.”

He would have responded, but the scorpion whacked the lion hard in the side, by the way the lion reacted Stiles wanted to assume it was playful...but the scorpion had a spiteful look on its face at the time. It’s tone was exasperated and sarcastic, but betrayed some fondness. “You stupid, sexy, idiot. Shut up forever. For fucks sake, you never say anything that matters.” 

The lion smiled fondly. “All I heard was sexy.” The scorpion tackled it in response and the two fought, completely distracted and slightly vicious. Stiles really couldn’t tell if it was playful or not. He noticed a few of the others wince.

“Guys, he’s not healthy.” The crab half-whispered while trying to subtly gesture toward Stiles head area. “It wouldn’t be good for him to--”

“It’s fine I have a plan.” The quieter twin mumbled, cutting off the nervous crab. 

“Yeah you do, buddy.” The mischievous twin beamed while the water circled the two of them serenely. “Oh, good idea, Aquarius.”

“No.” The scale demanded. 

“But his mind.” The crab reiterated with a whine in it’s tone. 

“I’m fine, really?” Stiles questioned, recoiling violently when the twelve creatures all turned to him as if remembering that he was present. 

“See, he’s fine.” The quiet twin affirmed while the other bounced excitedly for a moment. They then stopped and turned toward the scales once more.

“I already said we’d take the request. Do you accept the terms?” Excitement and mischief bounced in their eyes as they pinned the scales down into a yes or no. The scales sighed.

“State the balance.” 

A smile bloomed and they gestured vaguely with their arms, tone intentionally vague to match. “An anchor in this timeline, an anchor in that timeline, let them play in the new third.” 

The lion was visibly shaking with excitement along with a few others. Stiles had no idea what was happening, but the scale finally relented and tipped in his favor. 

“Agreed. Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski, do you stand by the word your spell?”

Again he was pinned by twelve eager gods, causing his body to lock up with nerves. All Stiles could do in response was nod. “I do.”

_He was going to go back._

“Excellent.” The goat perked up and the others sighed, “we just have a bit of planning to do before we let you go.”

_He was going to kill Gerard slowly. Maybe Kate too._

“It was nice to meet you Stiles! Come hang out again!” The lion practically screamed as all but a few of the zodiac were slowly pulled out of being. 

_Then he’d cleanse the Nemeton and the Nogitsune._

“Useless fucking lion.” 

_And when it was all finished,_

“Can you two please get along? It’s been twenty thousand years.”

_He’d finally take an infused dagger and see his family and friends again._

“Bye Stiles! Enjoy the past~”

* * *

__

_Hello Stiles, welcome to the past!  
In one week Gerard will be at a warehouse with a certain not-so-blind alpha werewolf. That is the only hint you get! Here are the terms of your trip:  
You are bound to and must stick with your twin. More than a month apart and there will be consequences.  
Neither of you can die on purpose. (You know what I mean)  
Keep us entertained. Scorpio is taking bets!  
~Gemini _

Stiles looked from the crumpled paper in his hands down to the unconscious girl on the ground next to him. She was definitely his twin, looked his age with shoulder length hair and a peaceful expression on her face. It was eerie looking at a female version of himself passed out on the ground in the woods. He had to look away after a few seconds.

They were in the clearing for the Nemeton, of course, and it seemed to be late summer or early fall by the leaves and the lingering scents in the air. The girl was wearing an overly large beacon hills lacrosse hoodie and sweatpants, with pink fuzzy slipper-socks and a small black purse. She was going to have trouble walking the long trek back to town in those, he thought while continuing to take in his surroundings. 

In his chest was no longer the scarred remnants of pack bonds. As if his soul had been reset to before he’d ever had them, there were no longer phantom pains or scarred echoes. He wondered if it was some consequence of his going to the past or if it’d been a gift from the gods that had healed him to this state. As far as he’d understood of magic, nothing like this kind of healing was possible. When a bond breaks, it fractures a part of your soul forever. 

The edge of ferality that his mind had in the future was dulled significantly, and Stiles realized fairly quickly that he was thinking more clearly. Another gift, he was sure. It would be unlikely that he could ‘them them entertained’ if he was but a dull husk of the person he’d been before his pack was murdered. Gerard was still going to die, no doubt about that, but the burning need to kill the man was calmed. He could plan it properly now. He could argue that he was sane now.

The girl stirred and rolled onto her back, pulling Stiles from his introspective thoughts as he watched her come into consciousness. He noted the differences in the way that they moved almost instantly. She had a casual grace to her movements while he flailed like an idiot, she somehow seemed mature and reserved in her movements. They were noticeably and inherently different people, even in her sleepy state.

After a moment she groaned and sat up fully, blinking her matching honeyed eyes around the clearing and landing them on him. Her gaze sharpened as she pinned him. He sat silently to wait for a reaction. She ran her hands down her face furiously and blinked at him again, now visibly shocked and gaping.

“Dylan O’Brien, did you kidnap me to the woods?” She sounded confused and dumbfounded as she spoke, almost as if she knew what she was saying was ridiculous. 

“I, um, I have no idea who Dylan O’Brien is.” Stiles ran his hands nervously through his messy hair, suddenly wondering if he looked like a hobo. When was the last time he’d worried about something as simple as taking a shower? “My name is Stiles, and it’s, it’s technically my fault that you’re here. I think. I’m so sorry.” 

“Stiles.” She said incredulously before a wave of energy seemed to slam into her from the Nemeton and she gasped. “Oh shit, it wasn’t a dream.”

Stiles watched her get up and start pacing the clearing, holding up her large sweatpants with one hand and mumbling angrily to herself about zodiac gods, new bodies, and being stuck in time travel au’s. He waited patiently for her to have a complete freakout before she rounded on him. 

“You’re really Stiles?” 

“Yes.”

“A spark or something who did some magic to go back in time because Gerard destroyed the world?”

“Uh.. yeah.” Stiles started to bristle under the questioning. 

“And the God Gemini granted you time travel, but pulled me along to be an anchor or something. As a twin?”

“Yes.” 

“So I look like a girl version of you?” She perked up. “All young and everything?” 

Stiles scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Yup.” 

“Am I hot? Like, objectively?” She beamed and Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculousness and the change in tone. 

“I mean, I guess. Isn’t that narcissistic of me?” 

“Cool. Cool cool cool. I’m hot and magic and teen wolf is real now.” She was mumbling to herself again. “I can get behind this. I mean, the nervous breakdown is probably inevitable, but I’m chill for now. Just going to go with it.” 

“Right.” Stiles trailed off, letting a moment of awkwardness linger before he questioned her. “So who are you anyway?”

* * *

“So you’re telling me,” Stiles couldn’t help himself from dripping in sarcasm even if he could tell that the girl was telling him the truth. They were bonded, more tightly even than the Alpha bond he’d had with Scott, he could feel the truth in her words. “That my life was a television show, _from Scotts perspective_ , in your world.” 

“That’s what I said.” She seemed amused. 

“You never watched the show but you used to read,” He cringed like saying the words were physically difficult for him, “fanfiction about me and _Peter_ for christ sake. And that’s what you were doing when you got pulled here.” 

“In my defense, you two make an adorable couple.” She nodded sagely. “Even more so with the time travel and you being closer in age. Ten out of ten, would watch that romcom.”

“Please stop.” 

She laughed, “Anyway, we should start planning something before it gets dark. Are you sticking with the name Stiles?” 

Stiles jolted at the change, noticing how the girl suddenly became very serious. It was more noticeable in this moment that she was a quite bit older than he was, despite the twenty year old body she was inhabiting. “Uhm, yeah, I’d like to stay Stiles. But, Stilinski is too noticeable.” 

“Good. I hate it when you change your name.” He looked at her in question, but she waved it off and started digging through her purse. “I have about eighty dollars in cash. What’s it? 2004 right now? Looks like all the cash will still be useful. I also have my cell phone. We could sell this to China and become billionaires.” She mused with a small chuckle. 

“Terrible idea.” 

“Duh, Stiles.” 

“So what do I call you then?” 

She paused, taking a moment to seriously consider. “Well we’re supposed to be twins, so they should kind of go together at least a little bit.”

“Nothing goes with Stiles.” He hummed. 

“True, but your excuse is always that your first name is Polish. So I should at least have a Polish name.”

“True.” 

“My name is Mila.” She said it like she was telling herself. Like she was willing it to be true.

* * *

They decided against a hotel because they had limited funds and both enjoyed food far too much to risk ever running out. So after a quick shopping trip, the two headed down to the train depot to set up a base of operations. 

“Honestly, thanks Derek for the good idea.” She mused over a sandwich after they’d gotten settled in. 

“It’s weird that you know stuff but not really.” Stiles squinted his eyes. 

“Probably just enough that I’m useful but didn’t throw off the balance.” She hummed over another large bite. “Plus I’m kind of lazy and definitely going to be constantly distracted by hot werewolves, so I’m not going to be super useful to you.” 

Stiles laughed at the bluntness. “But you mentioned you have magic?” 

“Yep.” She popped the p with a wry grin. “I can feel it kind of, but I have no idea how to use it.” 

“I’ll teach you.” He hummed and started rifling through the bags from their shopping trip for a notebook and a pen. “But first we need to make a plan for Gerard.” 

If she noticed the ferality flare in his eyes, she didn’t mention it. Instead, she tossed her sandwich down onto the packaging and slapped the crumbs onto her overlarge sweatpants. Taking a quiet moment to think. Stiles was foolish to think it was because she was thinking of anything important. “Kill Gerard, flirt with the hot British Alpha.” She paused. “That’s it. That’s the plan.”

“I think I see now why you were a consequence of doing strong magic.” 

“Thank you.” She smiled in genuine appreciation, causing Stiles to throw his head back and laugh for the first time in a long time. He noticed her trying to subtly study him, feeling through their bond her concern for him. 

As much as she acted like an idiot and pretended like she was oblivious, he could feel that she was behaving that way on purpose. Like she was trying to keep him distracted, make him smile. She gave him a nod, subtly telling him that she was done with the joking and ready to plan and him picking up on it immediately. It was weird how quickly the two of them had fallen into sync. 

“Ok, I kind of know what Gerard did. Aerosolized wolfsbane and some kind of set up. We need to first record him in the act, then secondly stop him, and third save the wolves that will be there from harm.” Stiles hummed and scribbled some information down in the notebook. “I can go down to the library and research the layout for the building. Maybe get you some beginner runes or offensive magic to start. Then we could--”

“Stiles.” She interrupted, “You’re over complicating this.” 

“How?” He questioned. 

“Well, we have information about a threat inside Beacon Hills.” 

“Right?” 

“So, let's just tell the Hale Alpha Talia, or Peter, or Deaton, was he actually a bad guy? The fanfiction goes both ways. We should at least be open to it. Where was I? Oh! We tell them the truth. That Gerard killed your pack, and then you tell them what he’s planning to do to Deucalion. Tell him that you heard about it, also true, and you want dibs on his life once he’s been captured. Easy as pie, chapter one Steter commence.” 

“No, Mila, no Steter anything. I will not be hooking up with Peter.” 

She hums, “We’ll see. We’ll run into the Hale pack at some point or another, it’s inevitable, those gods want to be entertained. And you’ll see him all young and snarky and _sane_ with those pretty blue eyes and you will become deceased. I’m calling it now.” 

“Stop!” Stiles whined. 

“SCORPIO PUT ME DOWN ON ONE OF THOSE BETS! THEY’LL BE IN LOVE WITHIN THE YEAR.” 

Stiles tackles her to the ground and they wrestle and bicker at each other through the night like actual siblings. Stiles never questions if it’s the unnaturally strong bond that is creating this closeness with a complete stranger. He doesn’t have a chance to while wrapped in the warmth of acceptance and companionship. His last thoughts before falling asleep on the cheap inflatable mattress with Mila’s hair autonomously lodging itself down his throat were that it may not be so bad to have a twin sister after all.


	2. A Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mila wants a shower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess we're doing this?   
> I have no plan for it, really? So I'm open to suggestions!

“I’m just saying, if we invented the iPhone _before_ the iPhone was invented, Apple would probably go under. If I’m remembering correctly, they were close to irrelevance before it was released.” Mila hummed and took a long drink of her soda while Stiles just gaped at her openly.

“Why do you keep making plans to destroy Apple?” He flat out refused to be charmed by her casual crusade. Refused.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged, but Stiles could pick up on something in their bond. This was more complicated than just a weird vendetta. “I just don’t like the way their predatory tech monopoly affected the industry. Aren’t you curious as to where we’d be without that cash grab exclusionary attitude?” 

Her tone was playful, but there was a fire in her eyes. She was much more upset about this than she wanted to let on. He found himself torn between thinking any blatant changes to the past were a terrible idea and thinking it would be kind of fun to mess with things. “I suppose, but really, wouldn’t it be selfish of us or something to change stuff like that?” 

“Says the guy who came back to murder someone to stop a whole world-changing series of events. Aren’t you being selfish? I should get to change stuff too. I’m already primed and ready to buy all the bitcoin when it’s super cheap. Gonna be richer than Musk, I swear it.” 

“But Apple? Your rage is so strange.” 

“It’s not! I hate them! You get to kill Gerard, I get to destroy Apple. It’s only _fair._ ”

And what else could he really say in response to that? “Fine, whatever, be smart about it at least.” 

“Of course, I’m sure Peter will enjoy helping me.” Her entire vibe shifted to crafty and mischievous, making Stiles cringe. Less than twenty four hours of knowing each other and he could say with absolute confidence that her body language spelled nothing good for him. 

Mila had been _pushy_ about the two of them getting involved with the Hale pack all morning. Stiles could understand, in a way, where she was coming from, but the thought of going up to that house and seeing it whole? That shit was scarier than just going and killing Gerard on his own. 

“Look man, I’m not saying that I don’t think you can handle this on your own.” She grumbled over their cheap fast food lunch, waving her burger in a gesture that she somehow believed portrayed her seriousness after such a ridiculous exchange. “It’s just, there’s a common theme for your character--”

“I’m not a character, Mila.”

“--that you don’t seem to know how to depend on others. And now you’ve been alone for so long that I’m worried that if I enable you, we’ll have a much more difficult time here than we have to in the past.” 

“I’m just saying that--”

“And Stiles, I know what you’re thinking. I think. And it’s stupid. We are quickly running out of money, we have no identity, and if you think I’m going much longer without a shower you’re insane. The Hale pack can _help us_ ; Get us identities so we can hold jobs and be real people instead of transplanted aliens, make me delicious snacks and let us borrow books about magic, we could shower, Stiles. Shower..” She pinned him with all the seriousness she had in her body. (It wasn’t much, but it was at least a bit effective.) 

Stiles held his ground for as long as he could in the face of her puppy dog eyes. They were surprisingly more influential than Scott or even Issac. He blamed the eerie similarity to his own. Who could stand up to themselves? In response he pouted and shoved an impressive number of french fries in his mouth, taking his time to chew before responding. “I just don’t see how marching up to their door and telling them everything isn’t an insane idea.” 

She shrugged, “I mean, you trust all the stories you heard about them, don’t you?” 

“I guess.” 

“Then there’s no reason to believe that they won’t help us. I mean, Talia may think we’re insane at first. But really all I’d need to do is whip out my cell phone or my wallet to corroborate our story. Heartbeats notwithstanding. It still has a battery, I have a USB charger in here, and I have _screenshots_ from these fics. Filthy ones, Stiles.” 

“Never show me those.” His heart dropped into his stomach and he felt a little sick. Mila was the kind of girl who would screenshot passages from her fanfictions, and he was one hundred percent sure that whatever she deemed worthy of saving would traumatize him forever. 

Her smile was vicious but she didn’t comment on them further. Instead, she got serious and continued with the issue at hand. “We can’t do this alone. It’s stupid and I don’t want to. I told you I was lazy, right? I wasn’t fucking joking about that dude.” 

Stiles sighed deeply and considered what she was saying. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the Hale pack with the truth, in theory. But, these people, he didn’t know them, Derek would be a teenager and Peter would be sane and he doesn’t actually know any of the others, not really. He’d be putting their entire lives and trust into people he only heard about. People he could only hope that he’d be able to trust. 

There was also the issue that the moment he went to that house and saw it unburnt and whole, he wasn’t sure how he'd react. It would make all of this too real. Mila seemed to pick up on the shift in mood and relented her endless barrage of nagging long enough for them to finish their meal and head to the library to do some research on the past.

The whole time they walked he was lost in thought, Mila wasn’t wrong. She’d needed to buy herself some clothes and shoes that fit her, they’d bought the air mattress, blankets, food and water already and were slowly running out of funds. Unless they wanted to get into crime, they needed to get identities fast, or make some supernatural contacts so that Stiles could do some warding or make some charms for money. Either of those things would be difficult for them to achieve without help, and would also likely put them on the Hales radar. 

The trip to the library was fairly uneventful. Stiles tried to find any of the contacts that he’d had in the future, any of the websites or magical exchanges, only to find them absent. They’d be starting completely from square one and he wasn’t as good with this old technology as he was in the future. 

Mila was great with it, explaining that she was thirteen in 2004 and she learned coding on these ancient beasts back in her youth. He’d also learned that she had worked in coding in her timeline, almost never leaving her apartment while creating apps and security protocol for her various clients. It made more sense as he heard her talk why she was so bitter about such strange things. She seemed to resent the technology that she’d developed in the future, had some vision for how it could have been better. More free, alive. 

“Tech is supposed to be free, Stiles. Interchangeable and interlocking and open-fucking-source. You feel me? It’s not all Apple’s fault, but I blame them and I’m petty, so.” Apparently she had some long term goals for their lives. He supposed that one of them had to.

When he’d started the spell to go to the past, Stiles had never anticipated having to live an entire life after killing Gerard. Gemini must have known that, though, and wasn’t willing to let him out so easily. Thus, the twin and the rules, he supposed. The thought that he could live a whole life here terrified him fully and he spent the rest of her excitable ramblings trying to keep himself calm.

It was early evening when Stiles finally relented to Mila’s nagging and agreed to meet with Talia. He reluctantly followed his overly excited twin on the long hike out to the Hale house after the two had haphazardly washed themselves in the library's public bathroom. Mila apparently refused to meet with ‘hot werewolves smelling like time travel,’ which, fair, he guessed. If you were into that sort of thing. If he got a sick pleasure out of watching the self proclaimed lazy slacker walk seven miles in the California sun sweating off all the product she’d tried to pretty herself up with, he didn’t say a word out loud. 

Mila could feel his smugness through their bond anyway.

* * *

Talia Hale was having a rough day. 

Or a rough week? Month? It was hard to keep track. As Alpha, it was her responsibility to prepare everything for the Wolf Moon celebration that would be taking place in her territory in one weeks time. Packs from across the entire west coast would be filing into town starting in the next few days, and she’d be responsible for maintaining order and accommodating everyone during their stay. This was, of course, on top of her regular duties as district attorney of Beacon Hills, which was taking up more time than usual due to an uptick in petty crime throughout the city. 

It’d felt like she’d been running non-stop for days, constantly putting out fires while attempting to maintain an air of authority while feeling like she was drowning under the pressure. All eyes would be on her during this event, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that she wasn’t being judged harshly. As such a young Alpha of a prominent pack, able to achieve a full shift, people were searching for any reason to undermine her. And she’d noticed some Alpha’s starting to group up together. She could feel that something was coming, but hadn’t had a chance to talk with her brother about it.

Usually when stressed, she’d have the comforting presence of Peter to keep her anchored. Yet, these last few weeks, her typically snarky and warmly cold brother had taken to a more jealous and cruel approach toward the family. Even his relationship with Derek was suffering. She knew something was going on with the two of them but hadn’t had the time to deal with it, as buried as she was under her workload. Secretly, she was hoping that the two would be able to resolve this between themselves, surely they knew that she needed the reprieve right now? 

She blames the innate stress for missing the approach of the two young adults as they stomped down their long driveway. Hadn’t noticed a thing, heard a sound until they were almost to the end of the driveway. They weren’t even making an attempt to be stealthy, and yet Talia hadn’t looked up from the documents she was reading until a flash of movement emerged from the treeline. She jolted violently in her seat, scattering the papers across the front porch. She didn’t move to pick them up, instead tuning her senses into their conversation and preparing herself to defend her home if necessary. 

“I’m just saying, if all this is going to freak you out too much, I’ll take the lead.” A female voice stated gently. There was only a short pause, “Though you’ll have to chime in eventually. I don’t have the whole story after all.” 

“I know.” A male voice mumbled, his heart was pounding quickly with anxiety, but there didn’t seem to be anything threatening or overly panicked about them. “It’s just going to be a lot.” 

“Well I’m here for you, bro.” The woman's voice was absolute. Like she was stating a rule of the universe. For a moment the tone took Talia aback, there was power in it that even she could feel from the distance. The two paused in their steps for a moment while the girl pulled the boy into a tight hug and whispered assurances in his ear that everything was going to be okay. Something in the exchange caused all of the tension on Taila’s body to slowly ebb away. There were some things you couldn’t fake, and that hopeful kindness was apparently one of them. 

After a moment, the girl grabbed the hand of the boy and started moving in closer to the house. The two hadn’t noticed that they’d been observed, which was made obvious by how they both jumped in shock when they noticed her on the porch. Talia noted their appearances, identical twins, early twenties, reeking of magic and anxiety and a bit of excitement from the female. The boy went through a complicated array of emotions in his scent and face, as if he was currently reliving a traumatic memory. The woman just held tighter to his hand and gave Talia a gentle smile, as if asking for a moment for her brother. Talia nodded back in response. 

Finally the boy’s breathing evened out and the girl stepped in closer, pulling her brother protectively behind her as if she could shield him from whatever he’d just been reliving. When she spoke, her voice was nervous and hopeful, though her eyes stayed sharp and protective. “Uhm, hi. Are you Talia Hale, by chance?” 

“I am.” Talia took this moment to approach, taking the three steps down from the porch onto the grassy yard where the twins were standing and regaining some of her own authority in this situation. Though she kept her movements slow and non-threatening, noticing how the two tensed when she’d moved initially. “Did you need something from me?” 

The girl turned back toward her brother for a moment, the two communicating with eye movements and eyebrow wiggles quickly before she turned back, slightly amused and quite a bit nervous. “Ok, cool. Well, Mrs--no--Alpha Hale, we have information about a threat coming to Beacon Hills, and, a bunch of other, well, frankly insane stuff. Do you have, uhm, like an office or something? This is a long story and I don’t know how much of it you’d want overheard.”

Talia stared blankly for a moment, hearing the truth and seeing the weary expressions on their faces. In that moment, she could feel it in her claws that everything was about to change. That this moment was important, as if she could sense the moon and the gods themselves observing her. She took a deep breath and nodded, leading the two into her office with shaking hands and a deep sense of anticipation.

* * *

The job of the Left Hand was to research any and all potential threats to the pack and to exterminate them if needed. It was to be the physical symbol of the lengths an Alpha will go to keep their beta’s safe. The more bloodied and strong the Left Hand, the stronger and safer the pack. Peter was regarded as one of the most promising and naturally talented Left Hands in the country and he took that responsibility seriously. As such, having an event like the ‘Annual Wolf Moon Celebration’ held in his territory felt like a direct challenge to him from the slowly developing ‘west coast ‘were council’. Bastards.

It wasn’t just Talia being tested to see if worthy, and Peter knew that being accepted by this developing authority was essential to having a peaceful region in the future. The hunter threat was getting larger every year and it made sense for the packs to start working together, being considered weak or unworthy of joining them would end the Hale pack in the long run. There is protection in numbers and their pack would be a prime target with all their accomplishments.

He was overworked, over stressed, and unable to lean on his Alpha, as she was as stressed and overworked as he was. The rest of the pack was too naive or too young to assist him in his particular brand of work, and it left a divide between them the size of the Grand Canyon. 

Peter didn’t begrudge them their innocence in normal life, but when the pack was as exposed as it was at present, he couldn’t help the small bits of bitterness that coursed through him. 

It wasn’t as if he was a pariah in his family, quite the contrary even, they loved him fiercely and appreciated the work that he did for them. Yet still, he could help but feel the subtle distance that couldn’t help but grow when they didn’t have the stomach for the realities of his daily life. Like a thin mask to filter his worst bits, Peter always had to hide a part of himself. It wasn’t usually enough to stress him out, but at times like these even he can have a frustrated moment and say things he doesn’t mean. 

He needed to clear the air with Derek after his outburst the other day, Derek had been stricken and scared after their talk that this girl he liked could never love him. That wasn’t what Peter had meant to imply. He just… He was tired and cranky and if he had to hear about a damned Cello one more time he’d shoot himself with a wolfsbane bullet. So he was harsh and said some things he did not mean. He’d fix it as soon as he had a moment.

But, he was genuinely so busy with the minor attempts to test the security of the territory he couldn’t make the time. He spent most of his days scouting the land to follow up on tripped wards and researching diligently in the blissful soundproofing in Talia’s office to pin down security breaches and potential weak spots. He’d been doing this for over a week uninterrupted, so when Talia walked into the office with two strangers he was unable to keep himself from jumping nearly out of his chair in shock. 

Talia smirked at the reaction but Peter didn’t notice, far too distracted by the expression on the young man’s face, his racing heart, and the waves of grief and anxiety in his scent. The extreme reaction spurred reaction from him and Talia, both cringing in sympathy and confusion. The girl with him, his sister obviously, simply gave the man a quick hug and mumbled things he didn’t have the context to understand. 

A long moment passed with the siblings holding each other before Talia ushered the two onto the small couch in the corner of the room. The girl gave her a nod of thanks before turning back to her brother and ruffling his hair and giving him a nuzzle on the cheek that Peter noted looked a lot like scenting behavior. 

She then looked the boy straight in his eyes, her mouth twisting into a mischievous grin before saying with absolute confidence and all this complicated amusement in her scent that made no sense to him, especially with the general mood, “Honestly, I knew seeing Peter’s gorgeous blue eyes would devastate you, but isn’t this a bit much, Stiles?” 

The boy snorted, his scent clearing of the anguish it held seconds before, like a light switch had been flipped. Peter couldn’t help but preen from the praise, even if it left him with way more questions than he was comfortable with not asking. He noticed his sister almost interject, but she stopped herself at the last moment, her tense body relaxing slightly with a small grin as if preparing for a good show. 

“You seriously didn’t just say that out loud just now?” His chuckles were wet from the tears, but he continued on after a small sniff. “Are you going to say stuff like this the whole time?” 

“I mean probably.” The girl shrugged, unrepentant, “We _are_ supposed to be entertaining, right? What’s more entertaining than my inner monologue becoming my outer one? It’s meta. I think?” 

“That’s not meta, it's just a terrible idea.” The boy murmured, a small glint in his eye betraying the underlying amusement. “This is a serious situation that we’re in right now. Super serious, needs all of the delicacy and nuance that you clearly lack. ” The man flailed and whined. “No one is ever going to take us seriously, Mila!”

His sister, Mila, hummed, completely unbothered by his distress. Peter couldn’t help but crack a grin right along with his sister. “Well, being entertaining was literally a direct order from a God, Stiles. Don’t you think that maybe you’re the one who isn’t taking this seriously?” 

The boy went stock still for a moment, his face going through a myriad of expressions before he answered tightly. Peter and Talia tensed at the mention of Gods, but were unwilling to interrupt the exchange. “I can tell you have more to say. Fucking get it out, asshole.” 

Mila perked up excitedly and Peter wasn’t sure why. He understood every word being exchanged, but he felt as if he was missing an entire layer to tise conversation. A quick glance at Talia confirmed that she felt the same, but she was still calm and amused so he took his queues from her and kept still and calm, ready to attack at a moments notice if need be. 

“I do, in fact, have more to say. I think we’re both still in shock, or have PTSD or something and we’re just dealing with it in totally different ways. You’re all serious and revenge-y and that’s fine, I’ve totally got your back on that. But me? I’m, like, detached from reality. This was _fiction_ to em and my mind is having a lot of trouble separating that. And you know, I kind of think that was the whole point of sticking us together. You’re all serious, I’m, like the opposite. Gemini. Balance. You feel me? The point still stands, we’re stuck here man, can’t die on purpose, remember? We’ve been cast in a TV show by the Gods, and we need to be _entertaining. It’s our life now, but it’s a show. I can feel it, cant you?_ ” 

Peter could not follow what Mila was saying, because most of it made her sound completely delusional or insane, but her words seemed to shake Stiles to his core. He just stared at her, again dumbfounded, like he’d had his entire world view rocked. She studied him for a moment and seemed to decide that he was going to need a minute to recover from the impact whatever she’d said had on him and turned back toward his sister. 

“I think I just broke him a little, so I’m just going to give you my side of this whole insane crazy story and then he can chime in when he’s ready, if that’s okay? To be honest, his side is the most important part, but I can give a baseline.” 

“Of course, whenever you’re ready.” Talia nodded, looking poised as the Alpha of any territory should, but as her brother Peter didn’t miss the burning curiosity barely restrained below the surface. Something about these two had caught her eye and he could understand why. Like a cosmic tether he could almost feel himself being pulled toward Stiles and with the way the man had reacted to seeing him he had to believe that he’d felt it too. 

“Okay bear with me, this is going to sound beyond crazypants.” The girl started, awkwardly adjusting her purse as if she was ready to pull something out in demonstration. “For me, this all started in 2019 with a television show…”

* * *

She’d always been a little weird. A little loud and detached from reality. A little bit too lost in her favorite fictional worlds. It had been more manageable when she was younger, before the droll repetitiveness of adulthood had slowly chipped away at her tethers to reality. Too tired, too busy, got married, moved away, voted for a sociopath as President, the list went on and she found herself nearly thirty and almost completely alone. 

It was easy to get lost further in the stories. In them there was adventure and excitement, happiness and escape. She wants to believe that it wasn’t lonely, but the pile of prescription depression medication would have to disagree. 

So, yeah, Mila could completely understand why she was the type of person to be pulled into something like this. Why the Gods believed that she was the girl who could handle the trauma of being ripped out of their own timeline. Who could keep Stiles moving forward while also providing a good show. 

She was honestly fine and not that worried about it. It was fun, an adventure where she was beautiful and young and _magic_. She was here with one of her favorite fictional characters and he _needed_ her, needed the levity that she would bring to the situation that they found themselves in. The plucky sidekick to the war-damaged hero. His anchor to his past and a foundation for his new future. 

She also wasn’t an idiot. Especially with the help of the bond could tell when Stiles needed a moment to vent his emotions and when he needed her to break the tension with nonsense. 

The God Gemini had truly found just the right person to balance him, just as his determination and ambition was a balance to her inherent laziness and despondency. They would even each other out and help each other settle into this world and hopefully along the way heal some of their deep emotional scars. It was a truth that she could feel in her bones, only solidified by the intensity of the bond between them and the excitable hum of magic in her chest. 

“So, yeah, we’re interdimensional space-time travellers and Stiles has dibs on killing Gerard. I should also probably be there, because, let’s be honest here? I'll definitely see someone brutally murdered eventually, should probably pop that cherry with someone I’d like to see with their insides on the outside.” Her tone was still detached and casual, a coping mechanism she was sure. Stiles, finally broken out of his emotional state, groaned exasperated at her comment while the Hales just stared at her and tried to absorb everything. 

Okay, she was definitely just as messed up as Stiles, because there is no world in which a mentally healthy person would be as amused as she currently was by the pure disbelief and shock at her story and the casual way she’d told it. But it was _funny_ and she had a job, damnit, and it was clearly to be the Abed in this story. Ugh, no one would get that reference for like six years. She frowned, genuinely upset. 

The silence after stretched on long enough for her to almost start babbling again before Stiles broke it. “She, she actually did a good job of telling you everything, despite everything about the way she said it and everything about her in general.” He shot her a mild glare and she shrugged, at least he was acting like Stiles again and not like a damned traumatized zombie. 

“Got the job done, didn’t it? Now we can move on to either trying to prove it or begging for a shower, because we probably smell terrible.” She looked at Talia pleadingly, ignoring how Peter actually laughed and Stiles definitely blushed in favor of a nice hot shower. She would mercilessly tease Stiles for his obvious crush on his obvious soulmate later. This shower thing was super important. 

The Alpha seemed unswayed by her puppy dog eyes, which was a downright shame, ok? She’d seen her new self in the mirror, these eyes are _adorable bambi eyes_ just like Stiles’ were and this woman should not have an immunity to them. Either way the Alpha stared her down with Derek eyebrows for a solid ten seconds before cracking a grin. It wasn’t fair, honestly, she’d expected Talia to be a bit more wrong footed after the big reveal and the fact that the woman was still put together enough to _fuck with her_ was both kind of awesome and really disappointing. 

“Yes, it’s fine if you take a shower. We have a lot more to discuss though, don’t we?” She gave Stiles a look, implying that she’d like to hear his side of things now that he was functioning more or less like a human person again.

“Oh, yeah, yes, definitely.” Stiles nodded more time than was probably necessary, but the overwhelming panic that was coming through the bond non-stop since the moment the Hale house came into view was finally down to what she’d call ‘Stiles baseline’ levels again. So, yeah a win, and she could probably leave Stiles alone long enough to get clean. 

The Hales probably had amazing expensive shower heads. It was going to be heaven. 

“Cool. Cool. Thank you, Mrs. Hale? A-”

“Talia is fine.” The woman smiled kindly and gestured toward Peter. “Peter can show you to the bathroom and get you something to wear.” She raised an eyebrow at Peter who huffed but relented. 

“Yes, fine, _dear sister_ , I can take a hint.” His snark was magnificent, even if it was obviously a front for how shook he was. Even though Talia didn’t give her the reaction she’d wanted from her blunt telling of her perspective of Stiles coming story, Peter had. The younger version of the man had clearly not perfected his mask because even his hands were shaking slightly from how world-shattering her story had to have been. 

“Oh, awesome Peter! I’m excited to have you alone for a moment anyway!” 

“Mila please.” Stiles begged, as if it would change anything.

“Don’t worry Stiles, I’ll be gentle.” She chuckled and then turned to stare at Peter expectantly, “I was just going to ask if I could see his werewolf face! I’m sure CGI didn’t do it justice.” 

The question went unasked, and before Peter had a chance to either show her or deny the obvious request she perked up. “Oh, nevermind, I want Deucalion to be my first.” 

Stiles finally broke and laughed out loud, “Jesus Mila. Seriously?” 

“ _The Demon Wolf_ , I’m just saying.” 

“You have no filter at all!” He kept laughing and even Talia finally broke into a fully amused grin at the exchange, “I thought you’d tone it down, but you keep getting worse. I can’t keep enabling you! I’m going to get you some xanax or something.” 

“Well, I certainly won't turn down a good time.” She winked and laughed, happy about having pulled Stiles out of his shell and gotten him laughing and followed Peter out of the office. After the shower she’d get serious, go into adult mode, and help with the planning for Gerard. Surely it wouldn’t take her too long to adjust to the technology of this time period again and find a way to be useful. She was going to need to endear themselves to the Hales enough that the pack would want to keep them after this and training her magic would take too long.

She’s not sure if Stiles would ever fully heal if they have to part ways with the Hales after Gerard is dead. That boy was so traumatized and needed to have a pack again. She was sure that while it’ll probably be a very weird adjustment that will probably have very bad moments, Stiles wouldn’t ever join a pack that wasn’t this one. Which means Operation: Stiles Hale is a go. Full speed ahead, she will go down with this ship, et cetera, et cetera. 

“So Peter, I’d consider it a personal favor if you were to help my brother hunt this rogue hunter in your territory.” She smirked as the man froze while gesturing around the frankly gorgeous bathroom sarcastically. “You’d have to spend a lot of time together, but I think the two of you would _work together_ very well.” 

“Of course.” Peter recovered and almost appeared unaffected, she was kind of proud. The calculation that flicked across his expression was also promising. “I do so enjoy when people owe me favors.” 

“Of course you do.” Her smile and laugh were of genuine excitement and happiness. It was probably very confusing for the werewolf.


	3. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has an epiphany.  
> Deucalion heads to Beacon Hills.

“Stiles.” Peter’s voice cut through the cacophony of sounds that rushed through the door as it opened, distracting Stiles from his current warding project. The two had been locked up in Talia’s office almost non-stop for the last twenty four hours, working diligently to secure the territory enough that they could focus on the Argent problem without worry.

Stiles hummed in response, not looking up from the delicate work of painting the sigil on the stone they’d pulled from the Hale graveyard for this purpose. Peter waited before he continued, allowing Stiles the time to get himself to a good stopping point and pause his project. 

“Is there a logical reason your sister has been loudly rapping about the battle of Yorktown all morning?” His tone was calm and measured, giving nothing away of his opinion on Mila and her choice of entertainment.

“Is there a logical reason for anything that she does?” He chuckled and raised a very serious eyebrow at Peter, “She just won't let go. Apparently, she used to have the entire soundtrack on her phone, but recently deleted it because it was streaming and she wanted to save some space. Now she’ll have to wait over a decade to hear the songs properly again.” 

The laugh that followed was probably a bit cruel, but Stiles had to get his amusement from somewhere and Mila’s random bouts of depression over future pop culture was far easier to deal with than dealing with her pushy matchmaking. At least she’d backed down from her blatant shipping of himself and Peter in favor of trying to manufacture classic rom-com scenarios as if they were some kind of coincidence. He’d be furious if her persistence wasn’t obnoxiously charming. If it wasn’t kind of _working_. 

Apparently deciding to forgo follow up questions, Peter grinned and lowered himself into the more comfortable chair at the desk, quickly falling into his typical rhythm of sorting papers and flipping through reports he’d received. It had been two days since they’d arrived at the Hale house and Stiles had rarely left this room. He certainly wasn’t avoiding dealing with the Hales, there was a lot of work to be done still before they’d be able to move onto murder plotting. If Stiles remembered correctly, Deucalion would be coming into town early evening tomorrow to be filled in on the Gerard situation and then things could finally start moving forward.

In the meantime, there was a lot of work to be done. Stiles was surprised to find that the Beacon Hills of the past had been so amateurly warded. It brought into question whether their emissary--Deaton--had even tried. Had he tried? Stiles knew for a fact that Deaton was capable of better wards than this, he’d seen them in the remnants of the clinic after the first battle had ended.

He couldn’t help but think back to something Mila had mentioned on their first day in the past while rambling endlessly about her fanfiction. _’Was he actually a bad guy? We should at least be open to it.’_ It had seemed so ridiculous at first, but the longer Stiles sat here in the past looking over the miniscule protections in place, the more he wondered. 

That was probably an issue for later.

So Stiles and Peter focused on improving things where they could and fell into the same comfortable rhythm they had in the future. Working together came easy, as if this version of themselves had done this as many times as he had with his Peter. They worked off each other eerily well, making quick progress on any issue that arose and Stiles greedily enjoying this new version of the man he’d known. Loving that for once he the fount of knowledge between the two.

The thing was, he’d always had an attraction to Peter, but no one had ever seemed to pick up on it before. The two of them had a rapport, insanity and all, and at times he’d have even called them friends. It could never have developed further, Stiles knowing that future Peter was incapable of anything resembling love after all the trauma he’d experienced, but this Peter? Mila really needed to shut up about his qualities because ever since seeing the man he’d been distracted by the possibilities.

Mila had called them ‘murder husbands’ over breakfast this morning and Peter just smiled like it was the greatest compliment she could have bestowed upon him. Christ it was going to be a constant mindfuck seeing how drastically different yet the same Peter was. Where his dark humor before was tinged with madness and rage and grief, it now bloomed with amusement and a warmth that overwhelmed him. Made him want to run away lest he end up completely submerged. 

It had become clear without ever being explicitly mentioned that Talia expected them to stay at the pack house. And while Stiles was the type to at least attempt to politely decline the offer, maybe run away, keep his distance for his sanity, Mila pounced on the opportunity and gripped it with both hands. Forcing herself into the pack with a single minded focus that he was unaware that she was capable of.

Within hours of finishing their time travel story, Mila had buddied up with Talia as if they were long lost friends. He hated to admit it, but Stiles had already noticed the mountain of stress that was evident in every line of the Alpha’s body language had tapered off significantly with the assistance of his new sister. 

“My goodness Talia, look at this work load. Why in god's name don’t you have a personal assistant? Jesus, okay, since Peter is getting Stiles, I’ll let you have me. I’m going to help you with all this before you explode. Now let me see your calendar. Fuck is that a blackberry? I haven’t seen the like since high school. Baller.” It was honestly fascinating to see Mila completely strong arm Talia into accepting her help with her unfiltered nonsense and Stiles took comfort in knowing that the girl was finding her own niche to keep herself entertained.

She shamelessly bounded around the house, dancing and cooking and watching the puppies so that Talia could focus on her own projects. Occasionally she’d lock herself in her bedroom with the computer she’d somehow convinced Talia to purchase for her, going on and on about how she had _important business_ to complete. Stiles had at first assumed it was in regard to her Apple crusade, but as the days went on he questioned that. 

Mila had been almost acting like a serious person all day and it was unnerving.

Her determined focus, which normally came in very short bursts, had been in overdrive since he’d awoken. After breakfast she’d quickly dismissed herself to the room she’d been working in, bond thrumming with excitement and single minded attentiveness. 

So, when his sister, much later that evening, creaked open the door to Talia’s office, Stiles had a feeling whatever she was going to say was probably not going to be nonsense. Her body language was calm and relaxed, but he could feel a mounting tension bubbling beneath her surface from their bond. She glanced quickly at Peter, but seemed to shrug off whatever thoughts she’d been having before she spoke. 

“Stiles, since I’m useless on the murder stuff, I’ve decided to focus on our future.” She paused, waiting for Stiles to react or make any comment whatsoever and when he didn’t she continued, somehow more tense than she’d been before. “And I have made way more progress than I thought I would so quickly.” 

Mila paused, shifting awkwardly on the spot. This behavior gave Stiles pause, though it was true that he hadn’t technically known Mila for long, the two of them had completely embraced their bond and actively chosen to be siblings. He’d felt like even with the small amount of time they’d actually spent together that they were actually pretty close, so seeing her acting this sheepish was quite a red flag for him. 

“How do you mean?” He questioned, ignoring how Peter perked up with an almost maniacal interest. Stiles wasn’t so detached as to not notice how starved for information about them the Hales were. They’d accepted them into their home, and seemed to trust them to at least not be an active threat, but any time the two of them interacted about anything serious it was as if every set of eyes and ears in the house laser focused on them. 

“Well,” She mumbled, playing with the hem of the oversized blouse she’d been given by Talia’s sister, as the two of them had only the clothes on their backs when they’d arrived at the house. “I know we kind of discussed it before but…I’m _really_ good with computers. A-and these?“ She lets out a small laugh that cuts the tension in her shoulders, “Network security in the past is child's play.” 

Stiles tries to parse through her complicated emotional input, there’s pride, a bit of excitement, and a whole fuckton of nervousness still pulsing through her. From the calculating look on Peters’ face, Stiles can tell that her chemosignals are throwing off something similar. “Ok, and?” 

“Stiloski.” She hummed, earning confused looks from Peter and Stiles, “Miliana and Mieczyslaw Stiloski. I-its close enough to the truth, and a real last name. I googled it.” She mumbled, embarrassed. “I-is it okay?” 

Stiles took a moment to process what she was asking him when it finally clicked. “What did you do?” 

She huffed, looking defensive and prideful at the same time. “Honestly, you’d think the _Federal Government_ could better encrypt their servers, but I guess they weren’t prepared for someone from the future and my amazing hacking skills.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Unsurprisingly it was Peter who recovered first. “You hacked yourselves identities?”

“Yeah.” She mumbled nervously, “And my degree too. I spent a lot of time and money on that Masters and I have no designs of sitting through it again. And Stiles needed his high school diploma at least.”

She fidgeted on the spot and Stiles took a moment to let it all sink in. He’d known, absently, that underneath all of her simping that Mila was actually a brilliant and talented person. Though he was embarrassed in this moment to admit that he’d seriously underestimated her. “Wow, Mila.” 

“Are you mad?” She hugged herself across her chest as if preparing to be chastised. 

“No.” Stiles smiled kindly, “Thank you. One of us needs to be focused on things like that.” 

“Great!” She beamed, pulling out her cell phone from the future and waving it in Stiles direction. “Now I need you to let me take your ID photo.” 

Stiles relented, allowing her to take the pictures that she needed before bounding out of the room to continue her projects. Peter sat quietly the entire time, working on their warding project while Stiles was distracted by his sister. Before she exited completely, she turned back into the room and asked a question that rocked him to his core. 

“Do you think Issac is being abused yet?” 

The reminder of his old friend caused Stiles to jolt violently in his seat, barely restraining the mounting panic attack. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten about Issac and his pain and in that moment was disgusted with himself for the question never having crossed his mind. He wasn’t sure how he responded in that moment, but Mila simply gave a determined nod and excused herself from the room as if she hadn’t shattered Stiles in eight words. He took a deep breath and refocused himself.

It was fairly easy to push his emotions away and focus on the task at hand. It was clear that Mila was, as she’d promised, taking care of everything so that he could focus on his vengeance. A tense coil of stress that he hadn’t even been aware of had started to tighten in his chest and he forced himself to focus on Gerard for now instead of addressing it. 

Hanging out with Peter and planning defense strategy was nothing new to him and the sense of familiarity was calming, even with the strange feeling coiling beneath his surface poking at his denial and evasion of their new reality. They fell quickly back into sync, easily resolving issues for the territory that would have been more difficult for Peter to handle alone. Peter seemed extremely excited about having the option for a magical solution to some of the creeping territory issues and Stiles just enjoyed having Peter’s intelligence and snark back in his life to distract him. It was obviously different, but in some ways it was even better. 

Surely this was all too easy? Going too well?

The other shoe dropped the following morning. Stiles and Peter hobbled out of the library where the two of them had passed out the night before and made their way directly into the kitchen. He could hear Mila cooing about something before they made it in, but was too tired to catch on before he got blindsided. 

By a teenaged Derek Hale. 

By all that was good and holy in this world, Derek Hale was _adorable_ as a teenager. His cheeks were kind of chubby and he hadn’t fully grown into his ears yet and his face didn’t have all the pain and guilt he’d grown so accustomed to etched onto it. He looked whole and safe and it hit Stiles like a freight train. He’d be able to save this adorable, innocent Derek and keep him pure and alive and happy. 

The panic attack he’d evaded the night before crept back up and disappeared all too quickly for any sort of physical reaction, leaving Stiles overcome with a calm epiphany of what had been boiling under his surface since Issac had come up. _This trip was about more than killing Gerard._ He wasn’t allowed to just die and see his friends again, so he’d have to continue existing every day after he’d finished with his vengeance.

It was such a simple thought, one he’d even had before, but yet now he truly understood. These versions of his friends and family weren’t ever going to be the same, and they shouldn’t be, couldn’t be. It would be his job to watch over them and make sure they have the best life possible in this timeline. 

Killing Gerard won't save Isaac from his abusive father, or the twins from their abusive Alpha. Won’t help Lydia adjust when she inevitably unlocked her Banshee heritage. There was so much that he would be able to do with his foreknowledge, so many lives he could change and people he could pull together. Mila had been right, they shouldn’t be shy about changing the past. They were brought here by Gods and only given three rules. None of those rules were restrictions on the things that they could change. 

An overwhelming calm washed over Stiles and he felt his magic surge in anticipation, as if he’d passed through some mental and magical bottleneck leaving him feeling powerful and enlightened. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his belief. Not only in himself, but in his mission and his duty to the supernatural world as a whole. He couldn’t imagine he’d ever felt so attuned to his place in the universe. So assured.

Everyone in the room reacted to his eyes, which had suddenly become lit from within, still his natural whiskey but glowing with newfound magical power. Stiles didn’t notice the change, busy giving Derek his most caring smile and trying to hold back the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“Hey Derek, I’m Stiles. It’s really nice to see you.” 

The teen responded with wide eyes and a look of pure shock on his face that Stiles couldn’t quite reconcile with the version of the boy he'd known. He remebered that Talia had explained to the pack that there were newcomers staying with them. She may have even explained more than that, but from the look on the boy's face, she had not explained where they came from. Derek was clearly taken aback by the care and attention that he was receiving from Stiles. The Spark waited patiently for Derek to respond, and when he did his voice was quiet and awed. “H-Hi.” 

Not realizing how weird his reaction had been, and deciding that teenaged Derek must be shy, Stiles gave another small smile and turned away to head toward the counter and get himself some coffee and breakfast. He was too tired to register the shocked looks on the faces of Talia and her husband, who’d also witnessed and sensed Stiles’ release of power, as he poured himself a large cup and slumped, zombielike, into one of the chairs. 

The tension in the room subsided, again without his notice, after a few moments and more Hales filed in and out in their typical morning routines. Stiles just picked at his eggs and sipped on his coffee, trusting that someone would have said something if he’d crossed any lines.

The thick fog of morning haze had finally begun to subside when Peter slid into the seat next to him with his own breakfast. After getting comfortable, Peter turned pointedly toward him and stared, not even bothering to hide his stunned expression. “I knew you were magic, but that was intense.” 

“What was?” Stiles questioned, completely oblivious, earning surprised laugher from those who’d witnessed his outburst. 

“Nothing Stiles.” Mila interjected with a pointed look around the room. Stiles just shrugged and went back to his breakfast, still far too lost in his epiphanies to worry about what everyone was talking about.

* * *

If there was one thing in this world that Deucalion understood without a single doubt, it was that the line between good and evil was razor thin and that every man was capable of both in equal measure. He felt it within his own skin, a burning desire to destroy and possess that seemed to fester beneath his surface. As if the moment he lost the iron grip on his control, he’d become fully consumed by his own darkness. One is not naturally good or evil, and he would prove it with his every move in life. He would _choose_ to be a good man. A good Alpha. To take care of his pack and his territory with kindness and hope for the best. 

Some would call him naive. Utopian. Even in some more venomous encounters he’d been called an idealistic burgeoning cult leader, as if he didn’t understand the realities of this world and as if he wasn’t desperately trying to avoid his own darkness. He saw no shame in trying to bury his personal evil under hope for a better future, to disregard his instincts to conquer and _own_ and instead push for a peaceful future. 

Wasn’t that what made for a good Alpha? To be capable of great violence and darkness, but choosing to push those desires aside and pursue the much more difficult path of peace? 

This was why he’d pushed to begin forming the west coast ‘were council. It was why he’d asked his Emissary and Left Hand to arrange a meeting with the current ruling Argent Matriarch in an attempt to pave the way toward a better future. One where the hunters and the ‘weres could work together to keep everyone safe and police the supernatural in their territories. 

He wanted to take a page from the humans and create a government, accountability and a joint policing force to allow the long burned bridges between the two groups to rebuild. Surely the hunters who clutch their code to their chest as if it is all that keeps them going through the horrors they witness would be open to a newer way? A way that would make the humans safer and the unnecessary violence on the innocent to stop. For less collateral damage?

He was aware that not everyone in his pack agreed with his plan to forge an alliance with the Argents. He was aware that some thought that he was going soft. And as much as he wanted to assert his dominance and force them to submit to his thinking, Deucalion knew that for him especially it would be a slippery slope. Felt the thin cord that held him back from crossing the lines he’d placed with his morality and how quickly he could become the monster he was desperately trying to avoid. 

So he allowed them their suspicions. Put his faith in proving himself right through action. And when his Emissary and Left Hand returned with word that the matriarch herself was unable to meet, but that she wanted the alliance and would send her husband in her stead, he did not question it. 

The mated couple assured him that they’d met with Gerard, and that he’d genuinely wanted peace as well. He pushed the small thread of doubt that he had in his mind down and trusted in his appointed to have properly researched who he’d be meeting with once arriving in Beacon Hills for the Wolf Moon. 

So blinded by his desperation for peace he’d missed the signs of discord within his own pack. The following weeks went by as usual for Deucalion as he never noticed how those who’d so loudly disparaged his hopeful ideals days before had gone eerily silent, how his most trusted had distanced themselves, and how rooms seemed to quickly grow quiet when he was within ear shot. 

Instead, he focused on his plans for the future, made notes for how he felt the treaty could work, and continued to converse with the other Alpha’s who were interested in the system he wanted to create.

So when he’d received a phone call from Talia Hale asking him to personally head to her home to discuss an important and private matter, he questioned nothing and came along alone without a bit of worry. Surely she’d gotten word of his plans and wished to get involved. The entire drive to Beacon Hills, he planned what he was going to say to her. 

He had no doubt that he wanted the Hale pack involved with the future that he was building, but some of the others weren’t convinced. Personally, he considered them petty and jealous of the young and powerful Talia. Her strength and kindness a perfect balance to the viciousness of her brother and Left Hand Peter. They were both young, and had come into their positions early due to tragedy, but unlike the others Deucalion did not see this as weakness. 

How could he? While the Beacon Hills territory was naturally a fairly stable and peaceful one, how could someone disregard the strength of the Hale pack when their Alpha could so effortlessly attain the full shift? There were even rumors of Peter attaining something close during vicious battles with the occasional wandering beast seeking their Nemeton. 

He’d heard the rumors of the uptick in _incidents_ in the territory since the celebration was announced. He was no fool, knowing that there was no coincidence in how Talia was being inundated with disputes in both the mundane and supernatural world, mentally cursing some of the petty old Alphas who’d likely been the cause. 

And yet, when Deucalion had spoken with Talia not a few hours earlier, it was not the stress of overwork that colored her tone. No, it was anticipation and worry. It caused a small itch to form under his skin as he grew closer and closer to the esteemed pack residence for the Hales. 

Standing nearly two centuries in a stable territory is nothing to sneeze at, especially in these last decades as hunters had grown more hostile and organized and Deucalion wasn’t the type to disregard the accomplishments of others. Strength was power and jealousy was weakness. As long as Talia was the type to work well with others, Deucalion was willing and would be proud to work with her as well. 

There was an intense humming in his veins as he pulled in the available parking spot outside of the home. A burning under his skin that filled him with anticipation down to his core. As if something important was about to happen to him and his life would change forever. He took a moment to steady his heart and regain his iron control before he headed to the door with held breath. 

The door swung open before he was even fully standing on the porch. Talia looked far more put together than he’d have ever guessed from the rumors of her workload, and he gave her a soft smile and nod in greeting. She inclined her head respectfully in response. “Alpha Blackwood.” 

“Alpha Hale. It’s lovely to see you.” 

Her soft smile stayed in place, “You as well. Though I truly wish it was under better circumstances.” 

Deucalion frowned at the statement, the hammering in his veins intensifying as he kept his expression schooled to polite interest, “Has something happened?” 

“Not as of yet. If you would please follow me to my office? We have much to discuss.” 

“Of course.” He nodded and followed her, finally noticing the tension barely concealed beneath her surface. Something serious was happening and for some reason she felt the need to involve him. Was it something to do with the treaty? He couldn’t hide his frown at the thought. 

It wasn’t long before they entered her office. Inside was Peter Hale and a young man who reeked of tension and ancient magic. Deucalion was momentarily taken aback, wasn’t the Hale Emissary an older Druid? This magic was far from druidic, aching and powerful and wild in the air. Likely a mage, or a Spark--but that was unrealistic, as Sparks were rare and tended to keep to themselves out of fear of being hunted by hunters and druids alike. 

He settled into the offered chair and waited for Talia to settle herself in. When she was finally seated, she turned to the magic user and raised a curious eyebrow. “Where is Mila? I was sure she wouldn’t want to miss this.” 

The boy chucked knowingly and shot a side glance at Deucalion, who only stiffened in question. “She had to finish up whatever project it is that she’s been working on all day.” 

“She has been particularly focused today.” There was an undercurrent to Talia’s words that Deucalion didn’t understand but it seemed that he was the only one as both Peter and Stiles nodded in agreement. Stiles closed his eyes and his eyebrows and scent tightened with concentration for a single moment before he returned to normal. 

“She should be heading in shortly.” He noted with a small incline to his head, subtly submitting to Talia in a gesture that piqued Deucalion's interest. To have someone with this kind of power submitting almost as pack was a rarity in this world. And the boy would only rise her status higher in the community once his presence was known. 

Not three seconds later the door to the office opened abruptly and Deucalion was again assaulted with the scent of wild and unrestrained magic. He turned sharpy to face the newcomer and was taken aback with the image she presented. 

Nearly identical to the boy with wild, unbrushed hair and hastily thrown on clothing as if she’d changed as quickly as she could and ran over. She closed the door, panting slightly as she started to pat down her hair in attempts to tame it and moved herself into the seat adjacent to him in a hurry. He couldn’t pull his gaze from her as she fiddled with her slightly askew and too large blouse, righting her appearance. 

Peter and Stiles were barely restraining laughter at her entrance while Talia simply looked reluctantly fond, all three allowing the girl the time she needed to settle in and straighten up. Only once she seemed satisfied with her appearance did the girl glance in his direction, and the response he received was not unwelcome. 

He could see her pupils dilating and her scent going sweet, her heart thundered in her chest as she looked him over with interest. He kept himself calm and unaffected as he could, allowing her to look her fill with nothing but a raised eyebrow and a pointed look, almost daring her to comment. Their eyes met and she flushed lightly and pointedly looked away. He couldn’t help but smirk and preen a bit, even in this strange situation. Talia loudly cleared her throat, cutting off the tension and her brothers cackling. In an instant the mood shifted and Deucalion felt the seriousness in the air.

“Alpha Blackwood, may I ask who it was that arranged your summit with Gerard Argent?” The Alpha questioned lightly, though he could feel that there was nothing light about it. 

“Can I ask why you’d like to know?” 

The female magic user was the one who answered, cringing afterward as if it’d slipped out unbidden, “Uhh, because whoever it is, they definitely want you dead dude. Gerard is a fucking monster.” 

The truth in her heartbeat clenched around him like a vise and he could barely restrain the roar of pure fury that threatened to escape from his throat. “Explain,” he demanded on a growl.

And they did. With much more tact this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with trying to characterize Deucalion. Making him a man both capable of great acts of good an evil.   
> I hope I did a good job with him (:


End file.
